Family Affairs
by Victoria M
Summary: Napoleon really should have been more careful


**Family Affairs**

by Victoria Martin

Rating: Gen

Summary: Napoleon really should have used condoms...

"You can come in now," said the assistant, a supercilious young woman in a skirt that left very little to the imagination. I tugged my own skirt down to just above my knees - Mom had warned me against looking too much of a slut - and went into the room.

"Name?" said the man behind the desk, without raising his eyes from his paperwork. I pouted slightly - since when does a man act like I'm not there?

"Arachne LaChien."

That got his attention all right, and even better was the way his jaw dropped open when he saw me. Then he groaned, in a strangled sort of way. It sounded almost like "Napoleon, you didn't!" but I could have misheard.

"I'm here to claim my inheritance," I said, putting on an expression of sombre respect, appropriate to the situation. "It says right here in this newspaper that half the Solo estate goes to 'Heirs of the body'."

"Heirs of the body," he repeated, eying me with something very like distaste, though there was something else underneath. There usually is, when men look at me. "Well, I hardly think we need a DNA test in your case. Are you sure you're not a clone?"

"I'm female, in case it's escaped your attention," I said, resisting the impulse to lean across the desk and scratch his face.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid biology isn't my field." He didn't sound sorry. "A test tube baby, then?"

"My conception was entirely natural," I said smugly. "My mother was an unusually lovely young woman and my father was a red-blooded American male. Occam's razor, Mr Kuryakin. Besides, you know they spent a night together, so why the skepticism?"

"True," said Kuryakin, frowning. "But there was also the time when that unusually lovely young woman held us captive for 24 hours. She could have taken a DNA sample while I was unconscious, and done God knows what with it. I wouldn't put it past Angelique at all. She was obsessed with Napoleon."

"Does it make any difference?" I asked. "Even if I was the result of artificial fertilization - and I'm not saying I was - I still count as an heir of the body. The process is irrelevant."

I couldn't tell from his face whether he agreed or disagreed, which was disconcerting, given how much money there was riding on it. Then he said abruptly "How long have you known Napoleon was your father?"

"Oh, forever," I said airily. "Mom never made a secret of it. She used to tell me bedtime stories about him. About you, too," I added. "You know, you're better-looking than I expected."

That almost drew a smile from him. He looked nicer when he almost smiled.

"Why did you never put in an appearance before?"

"My father wasn't dead before."

His face hardened. It made him look older. "You didn't think your father might like to see you?"

"Why should I?" I asked, with a trace of bitterness. "He never asked my mother about me."

"He didn't know you existed."

"Precisely my point. Leave the moral judgments, Mr Kuryakin, I'm here for the dough. Heirs of the body get half the Solo estate. That makes me worth close to a million, even if you don't like my mother."

The blue eyes bored into me. Damn, why hadn't Mom mentioned those eyes? It felt like they could see right into my soul. Assuming I had one, of course. Finally he spoke.

"All right, I agree that you're a legitimate heir, since there's clearly no disputing that Napoleon was your father." The blue eyes sparkled with something like malice. "That makes 253 of you so far. My lawyer will contact you when we've interviewed the remaining 67 claimants and know exactly how much you're entitled to. Goodbye, Miss LaChien. Give my regards to your mother."

Damn, but the man must be a killer poker player. I wasn't looking forward to telling Mom that maybe, if we were lucky, I'd inherited just about enough to pay for her next face lift. And I could see exactly why Kuryakin had been the villain in our bedtime stories all those years ago. Still, it had been worth it just to see his face when I told him my name. And maybe, if Mom was really pissed about the money, she'd let me go back and tell him about my blue-eyed little brother...


End file.
